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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27597125">if loving you’s a felony now, i’m a renegade, riding</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/joonibles/pseuds/joonibles'>joonibles</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>busted and blue [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abuse, Alexis | Quackity Angst, Gen, Im gonna make that a tag i swear, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Other, Quackity and Tubbo Friendship, Unhealthy Relationships, kind of bittersweet cuz of the ending, quangst, schlatt is canonically an alcoholic i think, this is a prequel to my last fanfic, tubbo’s in charge, who’s gonna form the quackity protection squad</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:23:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,805</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27597125</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/joonibles/pseuds/joonibles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Quackity stands up to Schlatt when he threatens to destroy something important to him. It doesn’t go well.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alexis | Quackity &amp; Jschlatt, Alexis | Quackity &amp; Toby Smith | Tubbo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>busted and blue [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2017544</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>361</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>if loving you’s a felony now, i’m a renegade, riding</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>ONCE AGAIN, ik real schlatt isnt abusive, their real friendship isn’t bad, yada yada yada. this is all their characters. </p><p>this is the prequel to “icicles don’t soften when they die” (what happens that leads to tubbo and quackity having that convo about how schlatt treats quackity) you don’t HAVE to read that one, but i would like it! ALSO??? I DIDNT EXPECT THAT MANY PEOPLE TO READ IT?? thank you all jfkrjriw</p><p>also, i’ll be honest, this might not 100% match up with my previous fanfic bc i made this one days after that one, and if something seems a little off then i apologize </p><p>TW: abuse is a LOT more prominent. schlatt’s not nice at all to quackity and often overlooks how quackity feels, alongside a scene of him physically harming him. beware of that if that might trigger you or make you uncomfortable at all </p><p>title is from “souk eye” by gorillaz</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A scribbled signature. Sliding aside a document. Another scribbled signature. Sliding aside a document. Repeat. </p><p>Quackity leaned away, nursing his aching hand. He had been signing papers all night, as requested (or ordered) by Schlatt. He didn’t even register what a quarter of these papers were for; he just wanted to go to sleep. Though, this was partly his fault. </p><p>Tubbo and him were both given a stack of documents to have signed by tomorrow. Tubbo had staggered under the weight, and his “Yes, Sir” was bleak and overshadowed by Quackity’s. Tubbo was obviously overwhelmed by all the work he had to do, had been for the past week, and Quackity couldn’t remember the last time the boy smiled genuinely. </p><p>Quackity had made the brash decision when they were dismissed and Tubbo stumbled out of Schlatt’s office, nearly tripping. The boy was tired, and Quackity was too, but Tubbo needed sleep more than him at the moment. He had promised to have them all signed by the morning, and Tubbo had, reluctantly, went to bed. </p><p>He didn’t really regret the decision. He just wished he had more time to work on it— or that Schlatt didn’t put all this on him so late. </p><p>With a heavy sigh, he leaned forward and scribbled his nearly illegible signature again, the words lapping into one another. He went to slide the document over onto the other piles, but he did it too quick, and a few documents glided to the floor. Quackity groaned in annoyance, getting up to bend down and collect them.</p><p>He glanced over each quickly, making sure they were relatively unharmed. He had stood up, making his way back to his desk, when he heard the sound of crumpled paper under his foot. Quackity cursed, setting the other papers down so he could retrieve this one. He meant to just throw it on top of the others, but his eyes skimmed it.</p><p>
  <em> Confirmation of the Demolishing of The White House.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What?  </em>
</p><p>Quackity stared at it until the words swirled together, his vision going blurry. His grip tightened, nearly ripping the paper, but he couldn’t look away. </p><p>Schlatt wanted to demolish The White House? </p><p>“What the fuck?” he muttered aloud. He read over the document himself, as if it was a joke, but only became angrier when he realized it wasn’t. Had Schlatt slipped this into the stacks to juke him? </p><p>He looked over at his desk. There was a stack beside his desk on the floor, which was his, and the one on top of his desk belonging to Tubbo. Quackity put two and two together. Schlatt was trying to trick Tubbo into signing it, not him. </p><p>If anything, that only made him angrier. </p><p>Trying to trick Tubbo into letting The White House be demolished? The White House he slaved over, building from the ground up, putting his blood, sweat, and tears into. It wasn’t just an insult to Quackity and his hard work, but an insult to Tubbo, who would never in his right mind sign something like that.</p><p>Unless he was too delirious to recognize what he was signing. Quackity double-checked, relieved to find he hadn’t signed it already. Schlatt set it all up, and he had nearly fallen into that trap. </p><p>A course of pure anger ran through him. His face felt hotter, and his hands were shaking, the document trembling in his grasp. This was the angriest he had been in a while. He wanted to punch something; preferably, Schlatt’s ugly mug. The idea was intoxicating at the moment. </p><p>He wasn’t thinking when he decided to leave his office, his shoes making a heavy patter on the floor as he stormed down the hall. Quackity had blinked, and when his eyes reopened, he was standing in front of Schlatt’s office, document still in his hand. </p><p>He urged himself to calm down. Schlatt wouldn’t listen if he just barged in yelling. Maybe he could convince him to not go through with it.</p><p>Quackity knocked on the door. “Sir?”</p><p>A moment of silence. He heard a curse, and then shuffling, before Schlatt came to the door. The man looked displeased, but not mad, which was good. “What?”</p><p>“Can we talk?” The words came out more confident than he had thought they would, and they sounded more like a demand than a question. Schlatt looked a little taken aback, but recovered quickly, scoffing.</p><p>“Yeah, sure. Make yourself at home.” Schlatt walked back to his desk, not even waiting for Quackity. </p><p>Quackity followed along, closing the doors behind him quietly, before he walked up to Schlatt’s desk. He didn’t sit down, however, instead hovering above him. Schlatt looked up at him with glaring eyes. </p><p>“What do you want?” Schlatt asked, though it didn’t seem like he much cared. Quackity noticed the empty shot glass on the edge of the desk, and the bottle of scotch out in the open, not even capped. Great, Schlatt had been drinking. He wasn’t surprised, but it would be harder to talk if he was. A drunk Schlatt was a lot meaner than a sober one. </p><p>“Look at this.” Quackity brandished the document, letting Schlatt rip it out of his hands. “What the hell is this?”</p><p>Schlatt shrugged lazily, barely even sparing a glance at the paper. “Demolition of The White House.”</p><p>“Exactly. What— why? You know how important this is to me. Why tear it down?” </p><p>The President groaned, as if he was being annoyed by a pesky toddler. “Quackity, please. This is just how business is, baby. I don’t need to explain myself over something so… stupid, do I?” </p><p>“You can’t do this!” Quackity’s voice raised, and the familiar anger came back. “It’s fucking bullshit.”</p><p>“Like hell I can’t. You seem to have forgotten who’s in charge.” Schlatt snarled, Quackity flinching away as he leaned forward. “I’m the President. I make the calls here. Not. You.” </p><p>“This isn’t fair!” He was desperate, now. Schlatt couldn’t do this. He had put his soul into The White House, and now he just wanted to destroy it. </p><p>“Suck it up.” Schlatt rubbed his temples, sighing. He snatched the scotch and shamelessly poured some into the shot glass, before downing it all in one go. “If that’s all you wanted to discuss, then you can go ahead and sign this, and then go sign all the other ones that I need tomorrow morning.” </p><p>“I’m not signing shit!” Quackity slammed a hand down onto the table. Schlatt didn’t jump, but the scotch wobbled and fell, the alcohol spilling out onto the desk and ground, and the hybrid brought his gaze back up to Quackity. </p><p>Fear flashed up his spine, making his toes curl, as dark red eyes glared at him. He quickly tried to apologize. “I didn’t mean—“</p><p>“You’re such a fucking <em> bitch </em>.” Quackity couldn’t hide another flinch at the words, dripping with mockery. Schlatt seethed. “You fucking whine and cry about every little thing. First, you’re gonna clean my desk, and then you’re gonna sign this fucking paper, and you’re gonna run back to your office like the bitch you are and get the rest signed also.”</p><p>Schlatt didn’t wait for a response. He got up, chair flinging back a few inches, and rounded the desk. Quackity shrunk in on himself as Schlatt walked up to him. </p><p>“Am I clear?” Quackity nodded. “Say it, bitch.”</p><p>“Yes, Sir.” </p><p>“Good boy.” Schlatt sneered, before shoving past. The doors opened and then slammed, leaving Quackity alone, his body shaking with leftover fear. </p><p>Quackity rubbed his eyes, hating himself for the slight moisture that came with it. His hands were shaking again, but from his nerves this time. He took a deep breath before rounding the desk himself, using some paper towels he found in a drawer to clean the scotch off the desk and ground. When he finished that, he got up and grabbed the document again. </p><p>
  <em> Confirmation of the Demolishing of The White House. </em>
</p><p>The pen shook in his grasp, and he couldn’t bring himself to sign his signature. He slammed the pen down. He couldn’t do it. </p><p>
  <em> You’re such a fucking bitch. You fucking whine and cry about every little thing.  </em>
</p><p>Schlatt called him a bitch a lot, so this time shouldn’t of hurt as much as it did. But it did. This was something so important to him, and Schlatt obviously thought he was overreacting. He thought he was whining and crying about something insignificant, like he was a baby throwing a tantrum over a broken toy. The previous irritation flicked alive in him again. </p><p>
  <em> Fuck him.  </em>
</p><p>Quackity snatched the document up, fighting the urge to just shred it to pieces then and there. He had to catch up to Schlatt. He wasn’t gonna let his hard fucking work go to waste.</p><p>He threw the doors open, letting them hit the wall with a nearly deafening bang. Quackity was sure there would be some kind of dent there, and childish pride flared up at the thought. <em> Fuck his stupid doors! </em></p><p>“Schlatt!” he called, marching down the hall as fast as he could. Quackity let himself grin, because for a moment he felt powerful. He swore he could go and kick an enderdragon’s teeth in if he truly wanted to right now. </p><p>He was going to tell Schlatt—no, <em> command </em> him to not take down what he built, and he was going to show that bastard who really had the power in this relationship. Quackity felt almost giddy at being able to shove Schlatt down a peg. </p><p>He rounded a corner, and almost ran face first into said President himself. Schlatt towered over him, eyebrows furrowed in exasperation, and his teeth bared dangerously. </p><p>“What the fuck are you doing? You should be signing those damn papers—“</p><p>“Fuck those papers!” Quackity screamed. He felt delighted at seeing the pure shock run across Schlatt’s face. The two had their fair share of arguments, and Quackity rose his voice a lot, but he never screamed in the President’s face. <em> Take that, fucker. </em></p><p>“What the fuck is wrong with y—“</p><p>“Wrong with <em> me </em> ?” Quackity fumed, shoving the document into Schlatt’s face. “What the fuck is wrong with <em> you </em>? I’m the goddamn Vice President! You can’t make decisions like this without talking with me about it, dickhead!”</p><p>“You’re really testing me tonight, Quackity.” Schlatt was smirking, but it was strained and ingenuine, his red eyes blazing with barely concealed anger. “I might let you go with a little warning if you cut that shit out now.”</p><p>“Fuck off! You’re so fucking conceited!” Quackity scoffed. Normally he would be cowering with fear, backing off and retreating, but he felt high on the energy running through him. He could do anything he damn wanted. “You’re not going to destroy my hard fucking work.” </p><p>“Really?” Schlatt snorted, leaning in closer. Quackity didn’t back away no matter how much he wanted to. “You’re going to stop me?”</p><p>“I fucking will.” Quackity spat, his fist tightening around the paper, crumpling it.</p><p>“I would love to see you try.” He could smell the scotch on Schlatt’s breath with him being up so close. His nose scrunched up at how strong it was. Schlatt didn’t seem too mad anymore, instead finding some kind of amusement in Quackity’s actions. </p><p>Before Quackity could say a word, Schlatt was already turning around. “Don’t fucking waste my time like this again. Take that paper and go put your little signature on it, I don’t give a fuck if it’s neat or looks like chicken shit. And then go ahead and do the rest of that stack.” He grinned over his shoulder, half-waving half-shooing him away. “Night night. Scram, bitch.”</p><p>
  <b> <em>Scram, bitch.</em> </b>
</p><p>That was the last straw.</p><p>Quackity charged up to Schlatt, grabbing his shoulder with all his force and stopping him. “I’m not your fucking bitch!” </p><p>Schlatt took hold of Quackity’s hand, nearly crushing it with how tight his grip was. Quackity fought the urge to yelp. “Don’t ever put your hands on me again.” </p><p>“Stop calling me a bitch!” Quackity screeched. He flailed around, trying to loosen Schlatt’s iron grip on his hand, but to no use. He could already feel the bruise forming there. “You think you’re so above me, but you’re not!”</p><p>Schlatt laughed, cold and cruel, and Quackity nearly flinched at the sound. “Please, that’s because I <em> am </em> above you.” </p><p>“You fucking dick!” Quackity shrieked, not caring how loud he was or who heard him. He was so tired of this shit. “You’re not above me! You’re not above Tubbo! You’re just like us!” </p><p>“I’m way above you, Quackity. Almost anyone can be. Shit, I may be above him, but Tubbo’s a lot higher than you are.” That stung. Schlatt’s grin widened, canines glistening. “He doesn’t complain at all.” </p><p>“I—“ </p><p>“Go sign the paper. I’m done listening to you cry about it.” </p><p>“No!” Quackity snarled. “I’m not signing shi—“</p><p>A hand snatched his throat, and he felt wind breeze past him. He couldn’t even think before he connected with the wall, pain blooming through his back, and he cried out. He clutched his stomach, gasping for air, having been slammed so hard it knocked the breath out of him. </p><p>The hand clasped around his throat tight, but left a little room for him to suck in small breaths. He wanted to pry it off, but moving made his back ache. Quackity just let out little whimpers, trying to not cry. </p><p>Schlatt was staring down at him with unsympathetic eyes. “This conversation ended a while ago, yet you still keep trying to be righteous. I’m so fucking tired of this little hero act you keep doing.” </p><p>Quackity bit his lip so no pained sounds could escape. Schlatt continued on. “I‘ve had to say it more than two times, so I hope this gets it through that hollow fucking skull of yours. Sign the goddamn paper, and then go finish the rest of your work. Have it on my desk tomorrow morning, 8 AM sharp. Capiche?”</p><p>Quackity nodded meekly when the hand tightened momentarily. It slipped away, and he struggled to stay on his feet, feeling lightheaded. “Good. Have a nice night, Mr. Vice President.” And with a light pat on his head, Schlatt was gone. </p><p>The moment Schlatt turned another corner, out of sight, and the click of his heels couldn’t be heard, Quackity let out a shaky exhale. He slunked to the ground, holding in his sobs, wiping at his eyes furiously. </p><p>He sat there for a good few seconds, head in his hands, resting against the wall. And then he heard light footsteps that couldn’t belong to Schlatt.</p><p>“...Quackity?”</p><p>Quackity sucked up his tears, clearing his throat so he wouldn’t sound congested. “Tubbo! H-Hey, what’re you doing up?”</p><p>“I heard some loud noises and yelling.” Tubbo looked hesitant, as if not knowing what to say. Quackity knew he knew; he hadn’t been quiet at all, and Tubbo had seen what happened. God. Just great. “Are you okay?”</p><p>“Peachy.” Quackity stood up, ignoring the way his back protested. “Just an argument. Nothing too bad.”</p><p>Tubbo looked like he wanted to disagree, but Quackity shot him a tired look, and he stopped. </p><p>“I’m gonna go finish those papers.” He tried to smile at Tubbo, but it fell short. He half-heartedly waved and went to go back to his office, trying his best not to look at the document clutched in his hand. Quackity had somehow managed to not drop it during all that. </p><p>A hand lightly brushed his wrist and he winced. Tubbo pulled back quick, instead moving over beside him. “I don’t think you should…”</p><p>“I have to. Order’s an order.”</p><p>“Please. You— let’s go.” </p><p>“Go?” Quackity turned to look at Tubbo. The boy was giving him sweet eyes, and he didn’t even know if Tubbo knew he was doing it. This time, a small smile graced his face. “Where?”</p><p>“You know.” Tubbo shifted on his feet, giving a pleading smile. “If not for you, for me? We have time, we can come back before it’s even sunrise.” </p><p>Quackity could never really resist Tubbo. He sighed, debating his options. He didn’t think he could sign these papers in this state of mind, anyways. Relaxing would be good for him to get back into that mindset. The paper in his hand felt heavier than before. </p><p>“Alright.” Tubbo brightened up, and Quackity shushed him. “I’m gonna put something up, and then we can go.” </p><p>As the two made their way down the hall, Tubbo glanced over at him. “Quackity…”</p><p>“No.” Quackity knew what Tubbo was going to say. He didn’t feel like doing that now. “I’m fine.” </p><p>That didn’t seem to make Tubbo any happier, but the boy held his comments. </p><p>“You sure?”</p><p>“I’m fine.” Quackity repeated. </p><p>They both knew who he was really trying to reassure. </p>
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